


The Pull

by rWolfWrites



Series: Post-ACOWAR, Pre-ACOFAS Works [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Post-ACOWAR, Pre-ACOFAS Release, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 17:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rWolfWrites/pseuds/rWolfWrites
Summary: He can't leave her alone. Not that he wants to, but usually, when a female knees him between his legs, he doesn't bother going back again.Explicit in Chapter 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before ACOFAS came out, so excuse that. Pulling things over from the hellsite known as Tumblr

“How many times must I tell you?!”

Cassian did not answer for one, simple reason: confusion. Standing in the doorway to Nesta’s room, watching her scowl and grumpily remove herself from the bed to stalk toward him, and waiting for her to come up for training always left his blood singing that had nothing at all to do with the lack of support and short length of Nesta’s nightgowns. He did not know what Nesta had told him too many times, or rather, he didn’t know what of many things he’d been ignoring that she was now referring to. Cassian had been told numerous times that minute to get out of her room. Cassian had been told numerous times that week to stop looking at her like that. Cassian had been told numerous times that month that she wouldn’t be training with him—ever.

Luckily for him, Nesta wasn’t the Seer.

He grinned down at Nesta as she tried to shove him out, flaring his wings slightly but otherwise remaining entirely immobile. Red light filtered through his wings, making her eyes seem to dance with molten fire. How could anyone be so beautiful? She touched his chest gently with one hand, looking up at him with parted lips and fluttering eyelashes. He caught her knee inches before it collided with his nether regions.

“You’re getting predictable,” he breathed, casually reaching out with his not occupied hand to pull a rogue strand of hair behind her delicately pointed ear. He wanted to sink his teeth into that ear.  _Desperately_. He did not have the foresight or time to muffle his moan as Nesta reached out to touch his wing with light fingertips. He coughed out a curse and released her hair to grab her arm, warily keeping a hand to block any further attacks from her knees. She was getting better at distracting him long enough to be dangerous to him, and he really didn’t appreciate it. (Or the fact that it kept working.) “No one ever taught you ‘look, don’t touch?’”

Nesta pulled her eyes away from the places she’d touched. Faint scars. Cassian didn’t care. It proved he survived. And gave Nesta an excuse to touch him. She glanced down, “Feyre was right. You are sensitive little pricks.”

“Nothing little about it,” Cassian winked, risking release of her hand to brace himself on the upper part of the door frame, leaning closer to her. Nesta scowled at him. Cassian scented the shift in her as blood rushed to her cheeks. He didn’t need Nesta’s body though. He needed her and damn it if she wasn’t more stubborn than his High Lady.

“If you’re here to drag me up for more training, you may as well go jump off a cliff,” Nesta turned and returned to the safety of her room. Cassian followed, brushing past her to open the thick curtains she kept over the windows. The door creaked slightly, closing slightly on a phantom wind.

“More? You haven’t had any,” Cassian said, unable to keep the cross tone from his voice.

“What of it? I’m still alive,” Nesta challenged, raising an eyebrow at him. Cassian felt that surge he’d talked to Rhys about hit him harder than it had since Hybern’s death. He decided to ignore it, as always.

“Luck will not carry you-”

“I’m Fae now, it’s not like falling down the stairs might kill me-”

“Did I call you fragile?”

“You’re an ass,” she made a rude gesture that he wouldn’t be surprised had passed from Rhys to Lucien to Elain to Feyre to her. He knew it as a predominantly Illyrian one, but he’d seen Lucien throw it before (mostly to him).

“If you’re to be our Emissary, you need to able to defend yourself.”

“I already am your Emissary, Cass,” she said, her voice softening just slightly. It was a gentle reminder of the trip she’d be embarking on in just a few weeks. A trip Cassian would not be party to. “And considering Feyre was too busy enjoying Rhys to do her job very well, I’d say I’m the best you’ll ever have.” Cassian growled slightly at her words. Nesta waved her hand, “I’m sure her duties including a variety of activities that didn’t involve Rhys in her bed-”

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned, pulling a hand through his hair. “Please.  _Please_ , let me teach you how to defend yourself.” He tried not to look scared or pleased as she approached him swiftly, standing up on her toes so her eyes weren’t level with his chin for once. She rested an arm on his shoulder for balance. He ached to hook an arm around her waist, to hoist her up against him and spin and kiss her until the were both dizzy-

Cassian reminded himself that he was a warrior who was capable of killing many many people very quickly. Then he looked into her eyes and wished it all the same.

“You don’t have to be scared for me,” Nesta said quietly.

The dangerous line they had been toeing since they’d nearly died together had been tested and tested again after Nesta had finally stopped hiding in her room following the War. It happened every time she went out with the females with the specific task of finding her a male to bed and he waited for her to come home, and she did. She’d even kissed his cheek one night, after she drunkenly fell down the stairs and he carried her up to her room. The line had nearly fuzzed out completely when she found Cassian half naked and half asleep on the roof of the House of Wind, staring down at Velaris and waiting for the oh-so-exquisite sunrise. He’d had the drowsy nerve to kiss her then, too. It was never enough for the burning coursing through him the sparked at each of her gentle touches.

“Cassian?” She touched his chin gently.

“I’m in charge of making sure Rhys and Feyre’s court can protect themselves. That includes you now and …” Cassian looked up to the ceiling for a second. “If something happens to you when I’m not there again, I … I don’t know … what I’ll do. To- to be with you again.”

“You are far too overprotective and-”

“And you aren’t mine to protect,” Cassian mumbled. “But- When you were human, that shit male- and then with Hybern, if not for Elain-”

“Cassian,” she brushed at his lip with her thumb. “Human males are called men.” Cassian laughed lowly at this, shaking his head. Nesta’s humor always came in such a fashion, always wildly unexpected and brutally simple. Cassian rested his forehead against hers after a long moment, chasing her gently as she dropped off her toes.

“Be careful,” Cassian whispered.

“I’m not leaving for a while,” Nesta murmured, her nose running along his for a moment.

Cassian lived for this collection of heartbeats. He lived for the scent of her pulling him slowly closer. He lived for the heat of her skin teasing his. He lived for the choice that was made as Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut. He lived for the call in her blood as his roared. He’d never loved a female like this before. Usually it came after sharing a bed so many times she was no surprise. Nesta never failed to surprise him when it truly counted. He’d only been allowed the tiniest hint of a taste of her body. But there was something else, something other to her.

_Nesta Nesta Nesta_.

He kissed her, unable to wait any longer. It was lighter than a feather, a true testament to his tarnished self-control. He finally rested a hand on her lower back and tugged her closer.

Nesta, for all the lack of experience she claimed, had an Archeron tongue. He’d heard enough of Rhys’ muttering and Lucien’s bleary, drunken rants to have some hint of this familial brand of magic. It was very different to experience it, with Nesta tugging on his hair and making delicious sounds into his mouth. He couldn’t touch her enough, couldn’t breathe enough. Cassian had no idea how long it was until they parted.

“If you had any brains, you’d threaten to leave me if I don’t train with you,” Nesta said quietly. Cassian’s first answer was lost as he shuddered; she was touching his wings again. He buried his head in her neck, slowly moving upwards to her perfect ears. He could feel every moan vibrate through her as she leaned into him.

“Even I don’t have the restraint for that,” Cassian breathed into her ear. Before she could answer he bit her earlobe gently. That was one thing to knock off his to-do list. Although, he may very well have to put it back on, just for the little gasp Nesta made.


	2. Separation

Cassian was, in a word, bored. Elain and Lucien were the picture of domestication, both reading books in chairs that weren’t at all close but faced each other across the living room and sneaking glances at one another as they turned pages. Cassian was almost entirely sure that Lucien was skimming, not reading, so often did he turn pages.

“You two are boring,” Cassian announced, pulling at a thread of the carpet under the couch he was draped over. Rhys, Feyre and Az had gone to the Court of Nightmares. Mor was taking a visit to the Winter Court to see Vivianne for reasons she refused to explain. Nesta was helping oversee some rebuilding efforts south of where the Wall had once been.

And Cassian was slowly dying with only Elain, who was immensely un-botherable (because of Nesta’s wrath and her own charms), and Lucien, who was very easy to bother, despite his best efforts to be as tolerable as his mate.

Lucien was taking things slower with Elain than Cassian was with Nesta and if that wasn’t the saddest thing, he didn’t know what was. Although, they did seem to be making more progress than Rhys and Feyre had. There was a lot less self pity and moping between the pair. And it did not appear that Elain had ever despised Lucien, however she might’ve and been too polite to say it. But Cassian thought she was too polite to hate anyone who’d never tried to kill her.

“You could always read a book,” Elain said lightly. Cassian wrinkled his nose. He was awful at remembering where he’d gotten the books from, and Rhys always got annoyed to find his personal library out of sorts. Feyre was no better.

“You know he won’t,” Lucien answered her mildly. Cassian wondered what, exactly, foxy boy meant by that.

“But he might,” Elain looked up at the Illyrian. There was something in her soft eyes that was mischievous.

She thought Cassian would do it just to prove Lucien wrong. He didn’t know if this was a minor extension of her power or she was just beginning to understand his personality.

“I need to hit something. Let’s go, foxy boy,” Cassian rolled to his feet and looked at Lucien expectantly. Lucien turned another page, this time without looking at Elain. Cassian nearly applauded.

“I’m perfectly fine here, batty infant,” Lucien said, his jaw clenching. Cassian clicked his tongue and glanced back at Elain.

“Would you like to watch us spar, Elain?” He asked gently.

“I …” She bit her lip and Cassian shifted his wing just slightly so she could see Lucien. She glanced back at Cassian for a moment. He tried to make the pleading eyes that had rarely failed him with Rhys’s mother. “It would be interesting to see if I could predict the winner.”

“It’s going to be him,” Lucien said a little flatly. “Only way I could win is if I burned his wings off.”

“You’re welcome to try, but if you use fire, I use my Siphons,” Cassian grinned at the russet eyed male.

“Fine. No fire or Illyrian battle magic bullshit.”

“Lucien,” Elain chided. Cassian shifted back so she couldn’t see his eye roll. Lucien rose to his feet, slipping what looked like a pressed flower in his book to mark his spot. Cassian made an odd face and Lucien held up a rude hand gesture that’d come from the Autumn Court. 

Cassian liked Lucien more than he did most people. He supposed he’d have to offer mild encouragement to foxy boy where Nesta’s wrathful protection of Elain went for a long time coming.

None of that stopped him from trying to break him just a little bit to see what Elain would do. Feyre would try to skin him if he hurt Rhys; Nesta would do Mother knew what to anyone who’d so much as nudged Elain in the street. He wanted to see if any of that Archeron fierceness still lay under Elian’s softness.

Still, when he finally managed it, it was almost entirely accidental. One second he’d been spinning around Lucien’s latest blow, and the next a wild panic had filled him to the core. He’d twisted Lucien’s foot, pulled it back just enough, and kicked. There was an all too familiar snap as his leg broke.

“Fuck!” Fire blasted Cassian away, but he was already scanning the sky, looking for- for-

For Rhys, or Feyre. Someone who could reach into his mind and emotions.

“Lucien!” Elain rushed forward. Cassian watched the empty skies another moment, panic picking up every sound of the city, the river, the surrounding mountains.

The threat lay far from Velaris though.

“Nesta,” Cassian murmured. He tapped his Siphons, letting the Illyrian armor encase him as he moved back to Lucien. He waved a hand and the male shouted in pain as his bone was set with crackling red magic. “Winnow me to the South.”

“Have you gone mad?” Elain cried. “His leg is broken!”

“I can’t go that far,” Lucien hissed, eyes narrowing. Cassian turned away, looking to the sky. He could fly to the Court of Nightmares and have Rhys winnow them down. That would take too long. Shorter than flying himself, but too long.

“Short jumps?” Cassian looked down at Lucien.

“What happened?” Lucien asked.

“Take me to the Court of Nightmares,” Cassian said.

“You’re both-” Elain took a sharp breath. Lucien’s focus on her became fully undivided. He touched her wrists as she pushed them against her head. “ _Nesta_.”

“Take me to the Court of Nightmares,  _now!_ ” Cassian snapped, reaching out for Lucien’s shoulder. He was shrugged off.

“Elain? What is it?”

Cassian growled. How fast could he fly several hundred miles? 

Not fast enough.

“Lucien!” Cassian barked.

Azriel stepped out of nothing beside him.

“Mortal lands,” Cassian snapped, grabbing Azriel.

A second later, they were soaring through darkness, being pulled at and pushed in all at once. Then there was sunlight once more, filtered through trees and smoke.

“Nesta!” Cassian bellowed. Her scent was laced with smoke. Cassian raised an arm to cover his mouth and nose, sprinting through the forest.

_Find her, find her, find her, find her-_

She was leaned against a tree, a man facing her. Cassian shoved him back, pulling a dagger from his thigh and sliding to a stop between them.

“Cass, I’m all right,” she touched his shoulder. “It’s just Isaac.”

Isaac was unimpressive and looked ready to shit himself.

“Who set the fires?” Cassian demanded, scenting several humans in the forest.

“Bandits. It was a distraction; they made off with most the supplies,” Isaac coughed hoarsely.

“We’re going home,” Cassian looked back at Nesta.

“I’m not done-”

“You are now.”

“Cassian,” Azriel said quietly. Isaac seemed to notice him for the first time. Cassian snarled at his brother. “You can send a garrison down to track the bandits-”

“I’ll do it myself-”

“Cassian.”

“They attacked my High Lady’s sister,” Cassian smiled. “I have nothing better to do.”

“High-” Isaac swallowed. Loudly. Cassian cut his eyes at him. He was watching Nesta again. “What- Elain or- or Feyre.”

Azriel and Cassian stiffened. Cassian looked down at the man again. There was something in the way he said her name that Cassian knew meant something.

Something he did not want to tell Rhys about. Not that Cassian doubted Feyre, but because Rhys would be ever so smug about how Feyre’s taste had increased immensely after she was Made. He was bad enough as it was.

“Feyre is one of the most powerful Fae alive,” Cassian smirked slightly. “Pray she doesn’t decide to deal with these bandits herself.”

“Stop that,” Nesta snapped, shoving Cassian between his wings. It was an odd sensation, but he kept silent. “Go home, Cassian. I’m fine.”

“Stop what?” He turned his grin on her.

“Rhys needs us,” Azriel murmured. Cassian recognized the lie. He allowed it regardless.

“I’ll see about your bandits later,” Cassian muttered, turning to face Nesta. She did not look particularly pleased. He kissed her forehead gently. “Try not to do that again.”

“Do what?” Nesta demanded irately.

“Get into trouble,” Cassian winked, glancing up to check the trees. There wasn’t enough space for him to take off.

“You’re insufferable,” Nesta growled.

“You have no idea,” Azriel said quietly. He raised a hand and brilliant blue magic shoved apart the branches of the tress. Cassian shot through the new gap, wings booming. He circled several times, waiting for Azriel.

The Shadowslinger winnowed into the sky beside him.

“Wings too big for that tiny little hole,” his brother smiled.

“Fuck you,” Cassian laughed. He’d probably just wanted to scare the human.

They took off toward what used to be the Faerie lands. 

“You know that she’s-”

“Yes,” Cassian said, just barely loud enough to be heard over the wind.

“She’s never had experience with it, she has no idea what it-”

“Az, trust me, I know,” Cassian sighed.

“Don’t take advice from Rhys on how to tell her.”

“Shut up.”


	3. Consummation

“How bad could it be?”

Cassian had made an unfortunate habit of incurring bad luck. He suspected that Nesta being south of Spring only made things worse. He hadn’t stolen a goodbye kiss before the mission like he’d done before.

Rhys and Feyre had been unsure about whether or not they could fly from Velaris to the Illyrian Steppes. Cassian needed to know if Feyre would last. He knew she could, it was just a matter of how many excuses she or Rhys would make for them to stop for a break. Cassian was counting on Feyre’s stubbornness to keep too many interruptions from happening.

They were almost exactly at the midpoint of their journey when a flicker of movement caught Cassian’s eye.

“Feyre!” Rhys started to drop to shield her, but Cassian beat him to it. What kind of General would he be if he let his High Lord be injured in place of his High Lady?

His wings flared dangerously to keep him aloft and shield as much of Feyre as possible. A shield of blazing red formed with half a thought. Feyre was a steady flyer, but she couldn’t maneuver the way he and his brothers could yet.

The arrow struck him in the side, sailing clean through his shield. It cracked at least one rib as it buried its ash head in him. Cassian roared in pain, dropping away from Feyre alarmingly fast. He fell into an uncontrolled tumble, hardly even breathing. Every so often he caught a glimpse of Rhys diving after him. Feyre was gone. Rhys shouted his name, he hit the tree line, and everything went black.

-:-:-:-

“What do you mean they went to the Steppes?” Nesta growled. Mor took a fortifying breath and looked around for support. Lucien was watching her with his eyes wide. Elain hung on Nesta’s shoulder.

“Rhys didn’t plan on you being back for another week,” Mor explained calmly. “After what you did to that human, Amren and I didn’t see another choice, but they left early because Cassian convinced them all to fly. Next time you decide to beat one of the humans senseless, give us a little warning, why don’t you.”

Nesta opened her mouth but it was her sister who spoke, “He deserved it. Even you and Amren wouldn’t have left him alive. Especially not you,” Elain said sadly. The blonde gaped at her sister, brows slowly pulling together. “The girl is half Nesta’s age. I saw it.”

Which was why Nesta had broken most the bones in Tomas Mandray’s body. Elain had seen a vague vision of Tomas hurting another. Nesta hadn’t snapped until she’d seen him leering at a young girl who looked all too much like Feyre had.

“I saw what each of you would do if I told you and Nesta was the only one who didn’t kill him,” Elain said quietly. She gave Nesta a little smile. “She wanted him to be a cripple the rest of his life.”

Nesta almost smiled. The look on Mor’s face was what she lived for. Dread hit her like a physical blow, a pain low in her stomach that made her want to crumple. She clutched at her side and stumbled toward one of the chairs of the sitting room.

“Nesta?” Lucien caught her arm as she nearly fell. She pushed him off her and stumbled toward the marble fireplace. The world spun and she couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe, she needed to rip apart the world, piece by piece.

They’d hurt him they’d hurt him they’d hurt him-

“Cassian,” she groaned. Hands were on her, people were shouting, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, not now. She needed to get to him. She tried to find Mor but she couldn’t, all she could do was rage against the ones she needed to hunt down. She wanted their blood, she wanted it so badly her fists shook as she tried to force enough air through her lungs to find them and find him and destroy them all.

“Holy shit,” she focused on Lucien’s voice because annoyance was easiest to attach herself to. “Holy shit.”

“Shut up and be useful!” Amren’s cold voice said. Beneath it, Elain was whimpering quietly. Everything cleared then.

Mor was sitting on top of her, pinning her to the ground with her cheeks flushed. Her warm brown eyes were almost scared. Nesta’s flitted over the room.

Elain was in Lucien’s lap. He was running a hand through her soft curls as Amren cursed. He wasn’t just soothing Elain, he was holding her hair aside for the silver eyed Fae. There was a remarkable amount of blood marring Lucien’s hands. From Elain.

Something wet dropped onto Nesta. She looked up at the mantle. The edge of it was coated with blood.

“What- What happ-”

“You bashed her head into the damn wall!” Lucien screamed at her. The carpet between them caught fire.

“Lucien!” Mor snapped. The fire flared brighter and disappeared.

She could smell him. Feyre and Rhys came years later, but Cassian’s scent was there.

He was covered in blood, she could smell it.

Nesta thrashed under Mor’s weight.

“Get the healer!” Rhys’s voice roared.

“In here,” Feyre grunted and a door slammed open. Rhys didn’t offer any argument.

“She’s already on her way, asshat!” Mor shouted back.

“Get off!” Nesta bucked her hips and twisted to no avail. Footsteps, light and quick, travelled down the stairs.

“What the fuck happened here?!” Feyre demanded.

“She lost her damn mind!” Mor growled, slamming Nesta back down as she managed to rise an inch. A ragged sob of pure frustration tore out of her.

“Cassian is- he- if we don’t get a healer here soon-” Feyre said between panting breaths. Mor went still. Nesta finally threw her off, scrambling to her feet. Feyre caught her wrist but she tore from her sister’s grasp and sprinted up the steps, “Nesta, wait!”

Her body froze. She could feel a wolf prowling around the threshold of her mind. Feyre slipped in front of her. “I’m sorry. You’ll just get in the way.”

“Can’t you make this stop?” Nesta asked quietly. Feyre touched her cheek, bending to kiss her forehead.

“We both know that’s not possible. Acknowledged or not, it never goes away,” Feyre said softly. Nesta felt the wolf pad closer, as though to nuzzle against her and keep her warm. Then it all became nothing.

-:-:-:-

 

“You are an asshole,” Cassian groaned. He knew that voice and knew by the time it shut up he’d want to punch its owner. “Lucien now hates your mate with roughly the same passion that she hates him. Elain had us all worried for a bit, but she’s fine now, of course, compared to your sorry ass at least. You gave me a heart attack. Feyre can hardly stand to be in the same room with Nesta. Mor actually likes her now. Amren is upset. And the rutting humans south of Spring think we’re barbarians. All because of you and your damned mate.”

“You’re welcome,” Cassian groaned again, turning toward Rhys. He opened his eyes slowly. After a long moment, “I’m not crazy then?”

“I’m not sure about that, but Nesta’s your mate,” Rhys said. “Mor said she could smell you before we winnowed in. Nesta smashed Elain’s head into the wall.”

“She hurt Elain?!” Cassian pushed himself up, wincing at the pain in his side. Rhys nodded. Cassian touched his head. Rhys’s jaw was clenched. It took a moment for Cassian to recognize the look in his eyes. Cassian could feel himself slowly shatter. “She doesn’t want the bond.”

He’d been so slow and careful. He’d tried to make her at least admit that he was different than other males. He’d tried so hard to make sure she knew that whatever it was they had … it wasn’t normal for him. It wasn’t normal for anyone, it was special and sacred, and … He would’ve told her but he didn’t want to be wrong. Rhys said there wouldn’t be any doubt, but it had never hit Cassian. He’d never felt it snap.

He’d never heard of mates knowing they were mates but never having the bond snap. So what if he was wrong, what if they were all wrong?

“I don’t know what she wants. Feyre had to … We were waiting for the healer and she was being, well, more difficult than usual. So Feyre made her more … calm.”

“You had Feyre knock her out?!” Cassian hissed through his teeth.

“Hence my reluctance to try and read her in any fashion,” Rhys smiled painfully.

The door opened. Cassian could smell her. He found her eyes and held them. For ages maybe. Rhys was gone by the time she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap.

“You’re alive,” she said, taking a deep breath. He didn’t move or try to speak. She had to know now. They’d told her. The door shut and she glanced back at it for a long moment. “Did Rhys tell you what happened?”

“Yes,” Cassian whispered.

“How long have you known?” The question was cold and clinical. Her voice’s only wavering came from an obviously raw throat.

“I didn’t.”

“Bullshit,” she said flatly, still watching the door.

“I … I suspected,” Cassian admitted quietly. “But it never hit me, it never … I knew I was falling in love with you and I thought it was wishful thinking. You being my mate, it’s ridiculous.”

“What, is the Lord of Bloodshed too high and mighty for a simple Made female?” She looked at him then and he knew he was going to cry. He was going to beg and plead because he had been wrong the whole damn time.

“No, Ness, Mother above, no,” Cassian touched her chin and even though she looked liable to bite of the digit, he ran his thumb over those perfect lips of hers. “I’m a bastard-born nobody. I had to do terrible things just to survive. I’d be dead or worse without Rhys, I don’t deserve any of this. I cultivated a skill for destruction, wrath, and ruin, and I never thought I would get something like this … someone like you. You could kill me with half a thought, you could destroy me, you could pull me along and I would follow you wherever you went.”

“Stop letting everyone else tell you what you deserve,” Nesta said fiercely, twisting her hand in his hair and pulling him close. “I want you, and it doesn’t matter what I deserve. You want me, and it doesn’t matter what you deserve. Fuck all of them. I don’t care what we deserve. You’re my mate, not anyone else’s.”

“I love you,” Cassian whispered. Her lips crashed into his, and he slowly brought her into his lap, ignoring the pain in his side. He groaned as her tongue found his. When they had children, he was going to gut any male who looked at his daughter with the half-goofy, half-lustful smile he couldn’t lock down without her lips on his. He kissed down her throat, biting at the pulse-point that had shocked her to her senses all that time ago. Her scent was deeper and richer now, even more addled with desire and need. He could imagine his was the same way.

He wasn’t wearing clothes that he could tell, but he was resting below the sheets and she was atop them. She’d straddled his waist, wearing simple leather pants and a loose, sleeveless shirt.

“I have an apartment,” Cassian breathed.

“This is my room, idiot,” Nesta ground her hips into his, matching his moan with one of her own. He’d brought her to ecstasy with his fingers alone one night, and she’d never wanted to go beyond that. He wanted to be buried in her for so long he forgot everything but her name. He wanted to taste her and make her writhe. Nesta kissed him, pressing him down into the bed. He ruffled his wings.

Nesta dragged a finger nail down the thin membrane and Cassian cried out, letting his head fall back against the headboard as she traced symbols over them. He could feel himself hardening beneath her.

“Nesta,” he groaned. She sealed her mouth over his, running her hands over his sides.

And then he felt it. Snap was a very good word for it. Like the veil covering the world had been torn away with enough noise that one couldn’t help but notice. There was light between them, such beautiful light tying them to one another. Nesta gasped into his mouth and he flipped them over so she was the one on her back. Caging the instincts inside him roaring that he plunge into her was more difficult than ever before.

“Cassian,” she moaned as he pulled at her blouse, getting access to her soft, full breasts. He ducked his head to her nipple and suckled on it until her back was arching. The sheets were twisted around them but her hand still found his cock, and he shuddered as she stroked it. He was going to burst into her hand and she’d barely even done anything.

He thought of Rhys and Az and Devlon and maggots and flies and Kier to keep himself from doing anything embarrassing.

Nesta bit at his ear and he grunted, pulling at her pants.

“Don’t make me regret letting them keep you in my bed, Cass,” Nesta hummed. She licked the shell of his ear. Red light flashed and left her clothes in tatters. She bit his ear lobe and pulled. Cassian rolled a nipple over his fingers.

“Don’t tease, Ness,” he breathed. He brought his head down to her neck and kissed her until there was no doubt going to be a mark. He bit her breasts and her stomach, he soothed each mark with his tongue, and then he buried his face between her thighs.

“Cassian!”

-:-:-:-

He was pleased with himself. That was more than evident as he slumped down beside her in the bed, arms curling around her and dragging her against him. She leant her head back into his shoulder.

“You should have convinced me to do that sooner,” Nesta sighed happily. It had been uncomfortable for a time, but Cassian was patient and soon enough everything had faded save for him.

“No one can convince you of anything,” he hummed into her hair. She tried to look up at him but the positioning prevented her from getting any more than a glimpse of his chin.  
“Did Rhys tell you what we did to the rogues who hurt you?”

“What did you do?”

“First Rhys found the one who fired the arrow. There was supposed to be a volley, but he saw Feyre and didn’t want to wait. She found them and incapacitated them before helping Rhys get you here. He got tired of pacing so he went back, then brought them to the Court of Nightmares. Feyre took me to them. I met Mor’s father. He stopped leering after I started shattering the archer’s bones,” Nesta could hear him screaming still. She didn’t know that she’d necessarily enjoyed it, but she would do it again, over and over.

“Does everyone know now?” Cassian asked slowly. Nesta smiled.

“Apparently every Fae in Prythian,” Nesta couldn’t help herself. “Tamlin very narrowly avoided disaster. Imagine if we had mated and Feyre and Rhys hadn’t yet. He’d be using us as a brilliant excuse to traffic Archerons from the top of Prythian to the bottom.”

“That would be amusing,” Cassian chuckled.

Something was nagging at Nesta though. She swallowed and twisted in his arms so she could look at him. She kissed his chin once, twice, and then his lips were on hers and she needed him inside her again, now. He rolled back over her, but she forced herself to put a hand on his chest before he could give her what she so desperately needed.

“I …” she hesitated. He was her mate though, he was her mate, her equal, the one thing in the world that still made any amount of sense from time to time. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Cassian’s grin pressed into her neck as he sheathed himself inside her slowly. Nesta moaned, inhaling his scent deeply. He chuckled and pulled out of her completely before flipping her onto her stomach. Then he was back, and somehow it all felt different and wonderful, and she knew he was smirking as he tenderly pulled at her breasts, slamming into her from behind. She was an incoherent mess in mere moments.

She didn’t know if it was her inexperience or his skill that made her explode so easily at his touches.

He spent himself again and twisted them so she rested atop his chest, his member softening inside her as she watched him, panting. She didn’t want to leave this room, not ever. They had no reason to.

“You’re a goddess,” Cassian chuckled, pulling on her hair. He braided it gently in small strands. “Did you know that when Rhys and Feyre bonded, all he could do for days was fuck her and threaten the rest of us who watched her too long.”

"And you’re going to somehow beat him?” Nesta surmised. Cassian grinned and ran his fingertips up and down her sides, sending gooseflesh prickling up her body.

“I,” Cassian slipped a hand around to cup her breast, “have all the time,“ he tweaked her nipple until she squirmed atop him, "I could possibly desire.”

Nesta pushed herself up so she could kiss him, grinding her hips against his until his cock twitched within her.

“You love me,” Cassian hummed against her, sitting up slightly.

“You love me,” she said, pushing him back.

“My wings,” he grunted, shifting to let them spread wider. Show-off. She kissed the column of his throat, shifting her hips over his. She could feel their mixed fluids dripping out of her just as well as his fast stirring member.

His hands gripped her hips to help her lift herself up carefully. She was gloriously full now, her head tilting back as she scrambled for rational thought.

It might have been minutes hours or days the next time they lay next to each other, still touching their foreheads and hands, with their legs intertwined. Nesta tried to manage her breathing as Cassian fiddled with her swollen clit with one hand.

“Ive been with enough Fae to know that you are a no-good, ravenously insatiable, gloriously tight, trap of a female,” Cassian growled against her lips. She bit his lower lip and was rewarded with a finger slipping into her. “Mating bond or no, you’re incorrigible, sweetheart.”

Nesta moaned as his pace quickened.

“Five hundred years of experience and I’ve never spent myself this many times with enough left to try any more,” Cassian whispered into her ear. Nesta could hardly think as a second finger plunged into her. He was pleased at this. He liked the power of knowing he was the only one who’d ever gotten her quite so unwound—and rewound and unwound and rewound and unwound … “How am I to stop myself, though, when I have you like this?”

She’d forgotten about the attention to her clit until it returned more aggressive than ever. She shattered within ten strokes against it, groaning his name as he drew it out longer than he had before.

“You’re very quiet,” Cassian nipped at her neck as she melted into his arms. “You’re going to scream my name before we leave this room.”

-:-:-:-

Lucien gritted his teeth. “How long-”

“Two days,” Feyre grumbled, grabbing his arm and hauling him back into the city. Her own damn home and she couldn’t spend five minutes in it without wanting to throw something. “And it’s only gotten louder." 

She was going to kick her sister out, as soon as she and Cassian left her blasted room.


End file.
